I Got a Splinter in My Butt :(

When I fired up my computer at work this morning, I immediately got an IM.

chainsawmatey: Are you doing anything next weekend?

aohk: who is this?

chainsawmatey: Sebastian (hi, btw)

aohk: hi! where did you get my im?

chainsawmatey: It's in your email sig

aohk: oh right. duh. not sure about next weekend. what's up?

chainsawmatey: I'm having a birthday bash. Wanted to invite you and your fella.

aohk: oh, cool.

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chainsawmatey: What's his email? Want to send him the invite personally.

I gave him Brandon's email and then got to work for the day. Around 3:00 PM, we got an email from the station's programming department about changes to the broadcast schedule. I scanned the email looking for On the Issues, and when I saw where it was, I started to panic. I got up and walked over to Janelle's desk, where Shannon and Brad were reading over her shoulder.

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"Saturday night," Shannon said with a resigned look. "If that's not the kiss of death, I don't know what is."

"Are we going to get cancelled?" I asked. No one answered.

Shortly thereafter, a second email went around from the CEO's office. It basically said not to panic if our show is changing time slots; that shows with good ratings are being moved to slots that need a ratings boost, and that it's more of an experiment than a permanent change. It made me a feel a little better, but still worried. I thought our show was immune to the recession because our ratings were so good, but with moving us to Saturday night, our ratings are definitely going to go down, and then what? Ugh.

When I got home, I heard some banging around in Brandon's office.

"Hello?" I called out.

"Hey! I'm in here!" I walked into Brandon's office, which was a mess of tools, wood and hardware.

"What are you doing?"

"Building a bookshelf. Speaking of which -- your carpenter boyfriend emailed me today and invited me to his birthday party."

"My boyfriend, huh?" I said, smiling, and went over to put my arms around his neck and give him a kiss hello.

"Does my hammering nails into wood get you all hot and bothered?" he asked.

"Yep, I invited Matt, too, but he can't come. Try not to be too disappointed."

"Funny."

"Would you mind if he came over Sunday? He's looking at an apartment in the neighborhood and I invited him over."

"In our neighborhood?"

"Yeah. He has a job lined up in the city, and the hour-plus commute isn't really going to cut it."

"Fine by me," I said, trying to sound as cheerful as possible.

After dinner, Brandon got back to his bookshelf and I got to processing the day's events. So my job isn't as secure as I thought it was. Maybe it's time to figure out exactly what I want to do with my life, career-wise, and then figure out how to make it happen in a struggling economy. And Matt is going to be my neighbor. On the one hand, that means less Matt sleeping on the couch. On the other, it means more Matt in general. But Brandon's been better about not being a law-breaking, lapdance-getting party animal, so does it even matter? I guess we'll see.

Also, that whole "carpenter boyfriend" comment. Was that passive-aggressive jealousy, or Brandon's idea of a joke? Hm. And how exactly does one remove a splinter they can't reach from their butt?